Not So Small Truths
by Aeria
Summary: Set S3, Kurt, Blaine and some of the New Directions play Truth or Dare at a party one night and Blaine gets just a bit too honest. 3000 words of dumb-dirty talk, smut and alcohol.


"Truth or dare?" Santana drawls the question, swirls her cup and then takes a long gulp, clearly eager to get even tipsier than she already is. Her eyes narrow in on Blaine who just stares back at her, blinking slowly. Beside him, Kurt squirms a little, wondering just how drunk his boyfriend already is… Kurt's pretty sure he's only had a few drinks but he's also very aware than Blaine is a featherweight when it comes to these things.

"Ummmm…." Blaine trails off and reaches blindly to grab at Kurt's hand and squeeze.

Quite drunk, then.

"Truth?" Blaine asks, only looking at Kurt when the word has tumbled from his lips, searching for his approval and smiling happily to himself when Kurt gives him a quick nod and a half smile. It's Santana: a dare could be life-threatening.

"San, be nice to him," comes Brit's request from where she's resting her head against Santana's leg. "He reminds me of Bambi."

Kurt doesn't bother to tell her Blaine lacks almost all the qualities required to be Bambi-like. Except, perhaps, the eyes.

Santana clicks her tongue and drinks again, wrinkling her nose and sucking in a breath that seems to burn. When Puck plonks himself down in the haphazard circle and tips a healthy dose of whiskey straight into her cup, Kurt finds himself wrinkling his nose, too.

"Who's up?" Puck asks.

"Blaine," Artie supplies. "Santana's deciding how mean to be."

Puck laughs and Tina glares at him before smiling empathetically at Blaine.

"Ok Andergay, truth time…" Santana pauses to consider her nails, then she looks up from beneath her lashes and smiles evilly enough that everyone in the circle can hear Blaine's audible swallow. "Jesus, relax, we're just starting out. I'll give you an easy one just promise not to make any of us vomit."

There's another pause, just long enough for Kurt to realize she's either going to ask Blaine something graphically sexual or sickeningly romantic. He braces himself.

"What's your favourite thing about Hummel?" Blaine's eyes go wider, sparking bright as his back straightens up and he starts to grin, clearly thinking about all the things he loves about Kurt, and everyone in the circle groans a little bit. After the requisite amount of time, Santana adds, savouring every syllable, "Physically."

It's still not a particularly challenging question but the qualifier makes Blaine's brow crease and Kurt has to stop watching because he can see Blaine fucking _thinking _about it. He wants to hiss, _Just say my freckles_, because Blaine's told him they're his favorite many, many times. Instead, Kurt glares fiercely around the circle, at Puckerman who's rolling his eyes and drinking straight from the bottle, at Tina who's watching Blaine attentively, at Santana who seems intrigued that it's taking Blaine this long, that he didn't have a soliloquy ready.

Kurt's just about to turn his gaze on Artie who he knows is bopping his shoulders obnoxiously along to the music when Blaine squeaks out, "His dick." And then he has the decency to raise both hands to his face and blush hard beneath his fingers.

"Excuse me?" Santana asks, incredulity and glee fringing her words and the manner in which she has pushed Britney from her lap and leaned forward.

Blaine juts his chin high in the air and finds Kurt's hand again. He also finds his cup and raises it to his lips and starts drinking. With everyone watching, he doesn't put it down until he's swallowed it all.

While he's trying not to cough and splutter, Santana just raises an eyebrow. Puck's voice is an octave higher than usual: "Did he just say his dick?"

Kurt feels like his cheeks are on fire and he has no idea what to do because everyone is either staring at him or Blaine and Blaine doesn't look like he's about to reassure everyone that by 'dick' he meant _hair_ or _mouth_ or _the sweet curve of his ass_… fuck, anything.

"Yeah, his dick," is what Blaine says and his chin inches higher in the air, "What did you expect me to say? His eyes?" He makes it sound like he's mocking them but they're all now gaping at him.

"You've always told me it was my eyes," Kurt hisses and then regrets it because Blaine's turned to him and is staring at him, his eyes stupidly solemn and serious but his mouth quirked: drunk but not too drunk. Kurt suddenly remembers exactly how many times Blaine's told him how much he loves his dick, usually with his mouth half-full of it or sitting across Kurt's hips with it buried deep. Usually exceptionally desperate and earnest and with a litany of curses, moans and blasphemes. Kurt flushes the brightest red he's ever managed and the circle of friends react with giggles and gasps.

"Are you serious?" Tina demands when they've all calmed down and Blaine's chin is still defiantly in the air.

Over the top of her, Puck once again pipes up with, "Well fuck Hummel, if you're really packing so much heat get it out and show it off."

Kurt's head whips around and Santana almost falls over laughing at his expression.

Blaine clicks his tongue and leans into the circle to grab a bottle of something strong and pour himself a splash, grabbing at Kurt's hand again as soon as he's done using his. "Come on guys," he says, "We're all adults here, Santana asked me a question and I answered, that's the game. Now, I don't—"

"But those tight pants! Surely we would know if—" Puck continues.

"Why? Were you looking?" Kurt bites, still glaring at Puck with his very best bitchface on.

"Puck, that's not what I meant, it's not about that." Blaine takes another swallow and then licks around the rim of the cup and Kurt wishes he hadn't seen that.

"Oh," Puck pauses, taps his fingers on the ground. "So Hummel's _not_ packing, bad luck man," he says to Blaine, "Being gay, I guess that's really disappointing. Hey, I've always wondered, like what's that like, with dick envy? 'Cause if Hummel's smaller than you does that—"

"Stop!" Kurt has his free hand in the air and is shaking his head even while Puck tries to keep talking over him.

"Kurt's bigger," Blaine provides and Santana erupts into another fit of laughter while Artie's eyes go wide. "Not that it matters."

"You said you loved his dick more than anything else about him," Tina says, "I'd say it matters."

"I mean it doesn't matter to you guys," Blaine waves her off. "No, wait, I mean it doesn't matter to us. He could have a tiny little penis and I'd still love him." Everyone stares so he feels obliged to ask, hopefully, "Who's next?" And then he has the audacity to drop Kurt's hand - now adequately sweaty - and instead grip his thigh tightly.

"Nope," Santana says, shaking her head and righting herself from where she's ended up half sprawled over Britney. "Explain."

Blaine blinks slowly and Kurt hisses, "Don't."

"Explain what?"

"Why his dick. If size doesn't matter and you're clearly enamoured with the rest of him—"

"I am!" Blaine tells the room, proudly.

"But you said his dick was your favorite thing about him and I've seen a lot of dick and they are not pretty."

"They…" he realizes a moment too late this isn't something he wants to say, "…Are." Blaine takes another mouthful and Kurt sighs.

"You think Kurt's dick is pretty?" Artie asks, eyebrow arched, mouth pinched is disbelief.

Santana shushes him. "Explain this to me," she demands.

"I…" Blaine finally looks at Kurt again, sees the settled red over his cheeks and the way his eyes are soft when he looks at him. "I don't know if that's something we want to share," he says in a small voice, only for Kurt, but of course the whole room hears it and jeers.

Kurt rolls his eyes and affectionately - he can't help himself - pets over Blaine's cheek. "I feel like we passed that point a long time ago, sweetheart."

Puck actually coos.

Blaine's brow creases and he waits for Kurt to shrug and then he shifts up onto his knees and takes a deep breath. "Ok," he begins. "Why I like Kurt's penis."

The room erupts and Artie asks Kurt, "Does he really call it that?"

Kurt shrugs.

"Cock!" Blaine shifts higher on his knees. "Cock, sorry. Kurt's cock."

Kurt can't believe this.

"Why I like Kurt's cock." He puts his cup down and rests his palms against his own knees and thinks, clearly taking this very seriously and, either out of shock, morbid curiosity of amusement, everyone listens. "Because it's Kurt's," he begins as though that's point number one on a list. "Because I can… Because it feels amazing in… No, wait, it just feels amazing. Because…" He trails off and then squeezes his eyes shut and Kurt knows damned well what he's imagining and so does everyone else.

"I can feel his heartbeat," Blaine begins once more. "Do you know how cool that is? Like, to just feel that… pulse, kind of - not even, not when… I can feel his heartbeat when it speeds up and when it skips and stutters and know it's doing all those things because of me and—"

Brit interrupts and Blaine's eyes snap open: "That's called a heart attack, you should take him to the doctor."

Santana shushes her gently and pets through her hair. Then she motions for Blaine to go on and Kurt has to arch an eyebrow at that, quickly looking around the circle and not sure how he feels about everyone's rapt attention.

"His heartbeat's like his life and, I mean, _that's_ what I love most about Kurt, his life, his… him. Of course, and sometimes when we're… close like… well you know. Sometimes I touch him and feel like I'm holding all that… life… in me. My hand. My… other places."

Puck snorts and Tina shushes him.

Blaine feels empowered and he's blushing hard and his hands are gripping his own knees tight still, his eyes on the ground and Kurt thinks he's not avoiding looking at everyone else, he's avoiding looking at him. Kurt's heart hammers in his chest and this really is the most ridiculous fucking thing.

"And besides that, it's his dick and… and making someone else come, someone you love, it's a beautiful, magical thing. It's also hot as hell. There's no better feeling in the world than feeling his…" Blaine trails off. "Nope, I'm not gonna say that." And then he kind of just runs out of words.

The room is silent and still except for the fade out of one pop song into the next and the continued shimmy of Artie's shoulders. Blaine's cheeks stay red and his eyes stay on the floor while Kurt stares from one person to the next and doesn't make eye contact.

It's Puck who eventually speaks: "Yeah, but what about getting your own rocks off?"

"Nope," Blaine shakes his head and there's a faint smile. "I think Kurt's orgasm is more….more," and he finally looks at Kurt, really looks at him and smiles a little bit more, drunk and lopsided. "And it's not like I ever go… unsatisfied."

"Ew," Tina says but it's breathless.

"Shut it Tina," Kurt snaps. "Santana asked him a question and he answered very honestly. It is not _ew_."

The room dips back into silence, this time uncomfortable. Puck twiddles his thumbs and Santana continues to run her fingers through Brit's hair.

When it's gone on too long, Kurt rolls his eyes and mumbles, "Fuck this," and then pokes Blaine harshly just beneath the ribs. "You come with me."

Kurt scrambles to his feet and offers Blaine his hand.

"Am I in trouble?" Blaine asks.

"Probably lots tomorrow," Kurt admits. "But not now, not at all."

Blaine's brow creases and Kurt's eyes sparkle, his fingers waggling.

Puck catches on before Blaine. "You're gonna get some," he marvels.

Blaine's hand grabs at Kurt's and he lets himself be yanked to his feet.

"We never speak of this again," Kurt says glaring around the room; Tina is the only one who nods.

"Why on earth not, Kurt? It's beautiful and romantic," Santana teases. "We're all adults here and if you guys wanna go and _feel each other's heartbeats_…"

"Oh my god," Kurt groans.

Next to him, Blaine shifts embarrassed from one foot to the other. "Hey, I censored myself for you guys. I could have told you all about—"

Kurt drags him away quickly, around a corner and up the stairs and into the bathroom, looking it behind Blaine and then pushing him up against it and kissing him.

"You are very drunk," Kurt tells him.

"So are you, I think," Blaine says.

They stare at each other and their blushes fade and their grins grow. "Which bits didn't you tell them?" Kurt asks and kisses Blaine's bottom lip.

Blaine swallows roughly and arches when Kurt's hand slides inside his pants. "Lots of things," Blaine tries, eyes rolling back as Kurt gets his hand around him and strokes.

"Such as?"

"Kurt…" Blaine whines.

Kurt kisses him again and then says, "Tell me," and this was never meant to be _a thing_ between them except how suddenly Blaine talking is all Kurt can think of and he's hard in his pants and planning on coming like this, rutting up against Blaine in a bathroom while all their friends sit downstairs, in full knowledge, and hopefully a little bit jealous. "Tell me," he says again, getting Blaine's pants undone and around his thighs and then moving to work on his own.

"What?" Blaine gasps as Kurt successfully gets his pants down far enough and Blaine's underwear waistband tight under his dick and across his balls. Kurt grabs Blaine's ass, pulls him in and then pushes him back against the door with his hips and starts grinding.

"Why you — _Jesus_ — you are so fucking _ridiculous_… Why you like my cock." And then Kurt kisses him to hide his embarrassment to even have asked.

He feels Blaine's body stiffen against his, a moment of pause and shock and then Blaine seems to remember he's uninhibited and caught hard between Kurt and a door and that Kurt _wants this_.

Kurt sets to kissing up Blaine's neck and Blaine tries to remember how to talk: it's so much more difficult now than it was with all their friends watching.

"I can feel you inside me," Blaine groans and his hands fit around Kurt's waist and pull him more roughly in, legs wedged between Kurt's slightly spread ones to get their cocks aligned. "Not now… well yeah, now… _fuck_ Kurt…" He pants and Kurt nips at his jaw.

"Your dick, how it feels under my hands… deep in my mouth." Blaine kisses him and Kurt's hips stutter. "_Jesus_. I can always feel how badly you want me, like now, fuck, can you feel that?" Blaine punctuates his words with his hands on Kurt's ass, holding him still and against him while his hips grind in fast pumps. "Feel that… How badly you love me, I can always feel that in your dick, I don't… _God._ Don't care how dumb that sounds. You get so hard and you come so good for me and—"

"Gonna," Kurt teases and warns.

"Want you to, always want you to," Blaine mumbles as he gasps and angles and tries to inch a little more friction out of the contact. "Want you to so bad."

Kurt cries out before he remembers to bite down on the cords of Blaine's throat, to moan as he spills and throbs and pulses. Blaine can't see between them for the all contact but he can feel it, can feel the thump of a heartbeat racing between them and the pulse of Kurt's cock as it spills. It pushes him over the edge, gasping Kurt's name as he comes just as Kurt tries to chase the last frissons of his own orgasm.

"Jesus," Blaine mumbles against Kurt's ear when they're done and just left standing there with their cocks and bellies messed and pressed against each other.

"Yeah," Kurt mumbles back. "Fuck," he breathes and after a few more moments of just leaning he steps back gingerly, holding his pants half way up and shuffling to the sink. He finds some tissues and wipes himself clean, buttons his pants and then crosses back to Blaine to help him do that same.

They stand there staring at each other, reality seeping in, the alcohol really starting to wear off.

"They're all gonna know," Kurt says eventually.

Blaine watches him carefully and then says, "I really don't mind. But I'll mind if you mind."

Kurt smiles slightly. "I think they're a bit shocked by us."

"Very shocked."

"I'm kind of okay with that. I think it's… It feels nice to be…" he trails off and distracts himself by looping his arms around Blaine's neck and kissing him slowly, tasting the sweet alcohol of whatever he's drunk there.

"To be sexy?" Blaine asks.

"Dumb and sexy and in love," Kurt amends.

"I sounded pretty dumb."

"Mostly sexy. And I think this is a… thing for me. I think we will need to practice it a bit."

"The talking?" Blaine asks.

"Yeah," Kurt admits with a blush and then he flicks the lock on the door signalling he's ready to face what is sure to be pretty unbearable.

Blaine makes him stop for a second. "Wanna skip out on the rest of the party and go back to my place and… _practice_?"

Blaine waggles his eyebrows and dumb and sexy and in love really does suit him… it suits _them_.

"I'd love that but I feel like that would only give them more to gossip about." He kisses Blaine anyway, slow and sure. "And anyway, you and I need to think of a truth or dare to pay Santana back with."


End file.
